The Iliad and the Odyssey (Classics of World Literature) (29 page)

Of rape-defending Ilion? Yet grant, almighty Jove,

One favour – that we may at least with life from hence remove,

Not under such inglorious hands the hands of death employ,

And where Troy should be stoop’d by Greece, let Greece fall under Troy.’

To this ev’n weeping king did Jove remorseful audience give,

And shook great heav’n to him for sign his men and he should live.

Then quickly cast he off his hawk, the eagle prince of air,

That perfects his unspotted vows; who seiz’d in her repair

A sucking hind calf, which she truss’d in her enforcive seres,

And by Jove’s altar let it fall, amongst th’ amazed peers,

Where the religious Achive kings with sacrifice did please

The author of all oracles, divine Saturnides.

Now when they knew the bird of Jove, they turn’d courageous head.

When none (though many kings put on) could make his vaunt, he led

Tydides to renew’d assault, or issu’d first the dike,

Or first did fight: but far the first, stone dead his lance did strike

Arm’d Agelaus, by descent surnam’d Phradmonides;

He turn’d his ready horse to flight, and Diomed’s lance did seize

His back betwixt his shoulder-blades, and look’d out at his breast;

He fell, and his arms rang his fall. Th’ Atrides next address’d

Themselves to fight; th’ Ajaces next, with vehement strength endued;

Idomeneus, and his friend stout Merion, next pursued;

And after these Euripelus, Evemon’s honour’d race:

The ninth, with backward, wreathed bow, had little Teucer place;

He still fought under Ajax’ shield, who sometimes held it by,

And then he look’d his object out, and let his arrow fly;

And whomsoever, in the press he wounded, him he slew,

Then under Ajax’ seven-fold shield he presently withdrew:

He far’d like an unhappy child, that doth to mother run

For succour, when he knows full well he some shrewd turn hath done.

What Trojans then were to their deaths by Teucer’s shafts impress’d?

Hapless Orsylochus was first, Ormenus, Ophelest,

Detor, and hardy Cronius, and Lycophon divine;

And Amopaon that did spring from Polyemon’s line,

And Menalippus: all, on heaps, he tumbled to the ground.

The king rejoic’d to see his shafts the Phrygian ranks confound;

Who straight came near, and spake to him: ‘O Teucer, lovely man,

Strike still so sure, and be a grace to every Grecian,

And to thy father Telamon, who took thee kindly home

(Although not by his wife his son) and gave thee foster room,

Ev’n from thy childhood; then to him, though far from hence remov’d,

Make good fame reach, and to thyself I vow what shall be prov’d:

If he that dreadful Aegis bears, and Pallas, grant to me

Th’ expugnance of well-builded Troy, I first will honour thee

Next to myself with some rich gift, and put it in thy hand:

A three-foot vessel, that for grace in sacred fanes doth stand,

Or two horse and a chariot, or else a lovely dame,

That may ascend on bed with thee, and amplify thy name.’

Teucer right nobly answer’d him: ‘Why, most illustrious king,

I being thus forward of myself, dost thou adjoin a sting?

Without which, all the power I have I cease not to employ:

For from the place where we repuls’d the Trojans towards Troy,

I all the purple field have strew’d with one or other slain:

Eight shafts I shot, with long steel heads, of which not one in vain;

All were in youthful bodies fix’d, well skill’d in war’s constraint.

Yet this wild dog, with all my aim, I have no power to taint.’

This said, another arrow forth from his stiff string he sent

At Hector, whom he long’d to wound, but still amiss it went:

His shaft smit fair Gorgythion, of Priam’s princely race,

Who in Aepina was brought forth (a famous town in Thrace)

By Castianira, that for form was like celestial breed.

And as a crimson poppy flower, surcharged with his seed,

And vernal humours failing thick, declines his heavy brow,

So, of one side, his helmet’s weight his fainting head did bow.

Yet Teucer would another shaft at Hector’s life dispose,

So fain he such a mark would hit, but still beside it goes;

Apollo did avert the shaft: but Hector’s charioteer,

Bold Archeptolemus, he smit, as he was rushing near

To make the fight: to earth he fell, his swift horse back did fly,

And there were both his strength and soul exil’d eternally.

Huge grief for Hector’s slaughter’d friend pinch’d in his mighty mind:

Yet was he forc’d to leave him there, and his void place resign’d

To his sad brother, that was by, Cebriones: whose ear

Receiving Hector’s charge, he straight the weighty reins did bear;

And Hector from his shining coach, with horrid voice, leap’d on,

To wreak his friend on Teucer’s hand, and up he took a stone,

With which he at the archer ran; who from his quiver drew

A sharp-pil’d shaft, and nock’d it sure: but in great Hector flew

With such fell speed, that in his draught he his right shoulder strook,

Where ’twixt his neck and breast the joint his native closure took:

The wound was wondrous full of death, his string in sunder flees;

His numbed hand fell strengthless down, and he upon his knees.

Ajax neglected not to aid his brother thus depress’d,

But came and sav’d him with his shield; and two more friends, address’d

To be his aid, took him to fleet: Mecistius, Echius’ son,

And gay Alastor. Teucer sigh’d, for all his service done.

Then did Olympius with fresh strength the Trojan powers revive,

Who to their trenches once again the troubled Greeks did drive.

Hector brought terror with his strength, and ever fought before.

As when some highly stomach’d hound, that hunts a sylvan boar

Or kingly lion, loves the haunch, and pincheth oft behind,

Bold of his feet, and still observes the game to turn inclin’d,

Not utterly dissolv’d in flight: so Hector did pursue,

And whosoever was the last he ever did subdue.

They fled, but when they had their dike and palisadoes pass’d

(A number of them put to sword), at ships they stay’d at last.

Then mutual exhortations flew, then – all with hands and eyes

Advanc’d to all the gods – their plagues wrung from them open cries.

Hector with his four rich-man’d horse, assaulting always rode;

The eyes of Gorgon burnt in him, and war’s vermilion god.

The goddess that all goddesses for snowy arms out-shin’d,

Thus spake to Pallas, to the Greeks with gracious ruth inclin’d:

‘O Pallas, what a grief is this? Is all our succour past

To these our perishing Grecian friends – at least, withheld at last –

Ev’n now, when one man’s violence must make them perish all,

In satisfaction of a fate so full of funeral?

Hector Priamides now raves, no more to be endur’d,

That hath already on the Greeks so many harms inur’d.’

The azure goddess answer’d her: ‘This man had surely found

His fortitude and life dissolv’d, even on his father’s ground,

By Grecian valour, if my sire, infested with ill moods,

Did not so dote on these of Troy, too jealous of their bloods:

And ever an unjust repulse stands to my willing pow’rs,

Little rememb’ring what I did in all the desperate hours

Of his affected Hercules: I ever rescu’d him,

In labours of Euristheus, untouch’d in life or limb,

When he (heav’n knows) with drowned eyes look’d up for help to heav’n;

Which ever, at command of Jove, was by my suppliance giv’n.

But had my wisdom reach’d so far, to know of this event,

When to the solid-ported depths of hell his son was sent,

To hale out hateful Pluto’s dog from darksome Erebus,

He had not scap’d the streams of Styx, so deep and dangerous.

Yet Jove hates me, and shows his love in doing Thetis’ will,

That kiss’d his knees, and strok’d his chin, pray’d, and importun’d still,

That he would honour with his aid her city-razing son,

Displeas’d Achilles: and for him our friends are thus undone.

But time shall come again, when he, to do his friends some aid,

Will call me his Glaucopides, his sweet and blue-ey’d maid.

Then harness thou thy horse for me, that his bright palace gates

I soon may enter, arming me, to order these debates.

And I will try if Priam’s son will still maintain his cheer,

When in the crimson paths of war I dreadfully appear;

For some proud Trojans shall be sure to nourish dogs and fowls,

And pave the shore with fat and flesh, depriv’d of lives and souls.’

Juno prepar’d her horse, whose manes ribands of gold enlac’d:

Pallas her parti-colour’d robe on her bright shoulders cast,

Divinely wrought with her own hands, in th’ entry of her sire;

Then put she on her ample breast her under-arming tire,

And on it her celestial arms; the chariot straight she takes,

With her huge heavy violent lance, with which she slaughter makes

Of armies, fatal to her wrath. Saturnia whipp’d her horse,

And heaven gates, guarded by the Hours, op’d by their proper force:

Through which they flew. Whom when Jove saw (set near th’ Idalian springs),

Highly displeas’d, he Iris call’d, that hath the golden wings,

And said: ‘Fly, Iris, turn them back, let them not come at me:

Our meetings – severally dispos’d – will nothing gracious be.

Beneath their o’erthrown chariot I’ll shiver their proud steeds,

Hurl down themselves, their waggon break, and for their stubborn deeds

In ten whole years they shall not heal the wounds I will impress

With horrid thunder, that my maid may know when to address

Arms ’gainst her father. For my wife, she doth not so offend;

’Tis but her use to interrupt whatever I intend.

Iris, with this, left Ida’s hills, and up t’ Olympus flew,

Met near heav’n-gates the goddesses, and thus their haste withdrew:

‘What course intend you? Why are you wrapp’d with your fancies’ storm?

Jove likes not ye should aid the Greeks, but threats – and will perform –

To crush in pieces your swift horse, beneath their glorious yokes,

Hurl down yourselves, your chariot break; and those empoison’d strokes

His wounding thunder shall imprint in your celestial parts,

In ten full springs ye shall not cure, that she that tames proud hearts

(Thyself, Minerva) may be taught to know for what, and when,

Thou dost against thy father fight; for sometimes childeren

May with discretion plant themselves against their fathers’ wills –

But not where humours only rule, in works beyond their skills.

For Juno, she offends him not, nor vexeth him so much;

For ’tis her use to cross his will, her impudence is such:

The habit of offence in this she only doth contract,

And so grieves or incenseth less, though ne’er the less her fact.

But thou most griev’st him, dogged dame, whom he rebukes in time,

Lest silence should pervert thy will, and pride too highly climb

In thy bold bosom; desperate girl, if seriously thou dare

Lift thy unwieldy lance ’gainst Jove, as thy pretences are.’

She left them, and Saturnia said: ‘Ah me! Thou seed of Jove,

By my advice we will no more unfit contention move

With Jupiter, for mortal men; of whom, let this man die

And that man live, whoever he pursues with destiny.

And let him (plotting all events) dispose of either host,

As he thinks fittest for them both, and may become us most.’

Thus turn’d she back, and to the Hours her rich-man’d horse resign’d,

Who them t’ immortal mangers bound; the chariot they inclin’d

Beneath the crystal walls of heaven; and they in golden thrones

Consorted, other deities, replete with passions.

Jove, in his bright-wheel’d chariot, his fiery horse now beats

Up to Olympus, and aspir’d the gods’ eternal seats.

Great Neptune loos’d his horse, his car upon the altar plac’d,

And heavenly-linen coverings did round about it cast.

The far-seer us’d his throne of gold: the vast Olympus shook

Beneath his feet; his wife and maid apart their places took,

Nor any word afforded him. He knew their thoughts, and said:

‘Why do you thus torment yourselves? You need not sit dismay’d

With the long labours you have us’d, in your victorious fight,

Destroying Trojans, ’gainst whose lives you heap such high despite.

Ye should have held your glorious course; for be assur’d, as far

As all my pow’rs, by all means urg’d, could have sustain’d the war,

Not all the host of deities should have retir’d my hand

From vow’d inflictions on the Greeks – much less you two withstand.

But you, before you saw the fight, much less the slaughter there,

Had all your goodly lineaments possess’d with shaking fear,

And never had your chariot borne their charge to heav’n again,

But thunder should have smit you both, had you one Trojan slain.’

Both goddesses let fall their chins upon their ivory breasts,

Set next to Jove, contriving still afflicted Troy’s unrests:

Pallas for anger could not speak; Saturnia, contrary,

Could not for anger hold her peace, but made this bold reply:

‘Not-to-be-suff’red Jupiter! What need’st thou still enforce

Thy matchless power? We know it well. But we must yield remorse

To them that yield us sacrifice: nor need’st thou thus deride

Our kind obedience, nor our griefs, but bear our powers applied